Laying in her bed. Layers of dirty sheets and clothing. Oily hair that hasn't been washed for days-maybe weeks. Smelling of sweat and is it even possible? Does it have a certain smell? Smelling of sweat and violence. Violence- the violent thrashing of her nightmares at night. The violent stature she holds when her heart clangs and she balls into a tightness where she can barely contain herself long enough to fall asleep. Where she can not pinch her skin tight enough for her screams to become muffled, forgotten whispers. Crying? It's so hard to say that she is crying. The tears are most definitely leaving her eyes, they most definitely exist. There existence being in the pillow, face, sheets, and mouth... but the tears hurt her too. They burn her face like lit gasoline. So much feeling and emotion, so much hurt and loneliness, so much pain and suffering in this one little body. How does she bare it?
ČTEŠ
Pardon My Existence
PoezieShe sits alone. Drowning in the silent clicks of the fan and her thoughts.
